It's Always The Quiet Ones
by MiladyGirl
Summary: Find out why Blake looked so nostalgic at the sex club in season 8. Blake/Rossi flirting. Oneshot, at least for now.


**A/N**

You know that episode with the unsub who paints with blood? Yeah, there is some quite intriguing dialogue between Blake and Rossi, and I always waited to find out more about why the sex club reminded Blake of the 80's, and why she looked so nostalgic when Master André mentioned the Spanking Room. Sadly this piece of her background never made it into the show later on. (Also, in this episode, HOLY HELL Blake was even more beautiful than usual! *melts* )

Yeah, anyway. This is my take on things. And in this version, Rossi and Strauss never had a relationship. I may rewrite this fic later on, because I'm not overly pleased with it, but this is it for now. I'm not too comfortable writing hetero pairings and I suck at graphic sex, so I'm leaving it at suggestive. :P

* * *

It just slipped out of her; it wasn't like she planned on revealing anything about her past to her colleagues… especially not something this private. But walking through the corridors of this 'adult club' stirred up old memories and she recalled the anticipation, the excitement, from the time when this type of place was her to-go place.

David Rossi, who was a different breed, stared in disbelief at the dimly lit corridor.

"The unsub sold his painting to _this_ place?"

"Reminds me of the 80's," she said dreamily, and snapped back to reality the moment the words had left her mouth. _Shit!_ At least it was Dave and not Hotch; she would have been embarrassed for the rest of her life if she had hinted at something like that to her boss. Dave glanced her way but said nothing. And she thought, _what the hell, why not?_

"What?" she laced the word with tease, challenging him to ask.

"Do I even wanna know?"

Such a gentleman. She tried to hold back a smile, but couldn't quite keep her facial features under control.

"Probably."

He still didn't ask any questions, and she would lie if she said she wasn't a tad disappointed. But if he didn't ask, that meant he didn't want to know, and she wasn't _that_ interested in shocking people. At least not at the moment.

* * *

She stayed completely professional as Master André showed them into the Spanking Room, and she barely glanced at the scantily-clad men and women with their leather whips… but her memories of similar rooms in similar clubs were bright and clear and nearly made her purr. She had been on both sides; sometimes taking the whipping, sometimes holding the whip, depending on her mood. It hadn't been a fetish; to her, it was more of a way of leaving her everyday life behind her for a while. At times she was tired of being so accomplished and wanted to be punished as if she had been a bad girl. At other times she was boiling with frustration and anger and needed to take it out on someone, but without actually harming anyone. It was different for everyone, she supposed, and she didn't need it anymore; over the years she had found other ways of dealing with stress. But it would forever remain quite the experience, one she would never want to be without.

* * *

Once they were back in the car, carrying the painting, he did ask.

"Okay, Alex, I admit it. I'm curious. Why did that place remind you of the 80's?" he asked as he put on the seat belt.

"Are you sure you want to know? Because you can't unhear it."

"For someone who seemed so eager to spill her secrets just a little while ago, you seem to have gotten very shy all of a sudden," he shot back, grinning. She bit the insides of her cheeks to keep a similar grin from forming upon her own face, but it was in vain.

"You think I'm shy? Brace yourself. This is far from the first time I was at such a club. Far from the first time I was in a Spanking Room."

"I take it you don't mean like today, during work hours?"

"No," she said, still grinning. "In case you've never tried it, I can tell you that it's a remarkably efficient way of reducing stress."

"I think I'll stick with a 24-year-old malt whiskey to relieve my stress," he commented, and Alex laughed.

"I wouldn't say no to some of that either," she admitted.

"So, spanking? How did you get introduced to that?"

"I have to remind you again; you can't unhear this."

"I wouldn't ask if I wasn't curious."

"Erin Strauss."

He did a double take. Alex briefly took her eyes from the road and met his, no longer smiling, much less grinning.

"Yeah. We were… we had an affair. Well. _She_ had an affair. _I_ had a relationship."

She realised how bitter she sounded and made an almost visible effort to pull herself together. "Anyway, she was the one who introduced me to it. When we broke up, I kept going to these clubs. You could say I was something of a sex addict back then."

 _Erin Strauss and Alex Blake?_ Was the first thing he thought, then shrugged the thought off and was struck with the next _; Alex Blake a sex addict?_

"Quite frankly, I think I might consider going to one of those clubs again. Since James took off there has been nothing but sleep going on in my bedroom and it's starting to get on my nerves."

"You're kidding," he said. It had been a full year; there was no way an attractive woman like Alex Blake would go a year without any invitations. And judging from the information he had just received, she had the advantage of enjoying a flirt from both sexes.

"The surprise I heard in your voice right there is the most sincere compliment I have gotten in a decade," Alex said, smiling again.

"You are a very desirable woman," he said, the words seemingly coming from nowhere. Of course he had _thought_ them; he was a ladies' man and Alex was… yes, she was _desirable_. Attractive, intelligent, cultivated. A woman who could tell the difference between a Bordeaux and an Amarone just from the scent. Not to mention that she was tough. Unwavering around serial killers, calm enough to take a clear shot in stressful situations. She was resilient.

"Thank you. And I think you are a very desirable man."

She felt a blush creep up her neck and into her cheeks, and was surprised. She very rarely blushed. While her complexion was rather fair for someone with such dark eyes and hair, she had never been prone to blushing. But this wasn't from embarrassment.

"Did I embarrass you?" he asked, noticing her flushed face.

"Not at all," she replied. "Nor will I apologise if _I_ embarrassed _you_. I stand by what I just said."

"Including the things you didn't say out loud?"

She bit her lip, realised that it probably made her look like a middle-aged version of the girl in Fifty Shades of Grey, and forced herself to stop.

"Yes, including the things I didn't say out loud." She raised her eyebrows as if to ask him what he was going to do next. What he did was smiling broadly.

"I don't believe in hitting women, and I'm not exactly keen on getting my ass kicked myself, but I do have that malt whiskey at home if you want to join me for some once we've wrapped up this case."

"I'd like that."

She parked the car and turned to look at him. The look she saw in his eyes reflected the sensation that was building inside of her; pure desire.

 _If I don't look away soon I'm going to throw myself all over him_ , she thought to herself, more than a little amused at her own reaction.

"Spanking," he said in a low voice and shook his head a little. "Well, it's always the quiet ones," he continued. Alex offered him a dazzling smile. Her dark eyes glittered with mischief as she leaned in close and whispered;

"What makes you think I'm quiet?"

With that, she got out of the car, laughing a little. David Rossi remained seated. It was either that or revealing to anyone who happened to look his way that a certain Italian stud had the hots for a certain whip-loving linguist.

 _I wonder if she's into chains as well?,_ he thought, unaware that Alex just had a similar thought;

 _I wonder if I could convince him to make good use of the handcuffs…?_


End file.
